“I trow that he is,” returned the stranger, smiling sweetly at her.
“She was wishing that the king were here with us when thou didst knock at the door,” chuckled Denewulf.
“Why fearest thou for the king? Dost know him?”
“No; but if the king be safe then is there hope for the land. Doth he not carry the hearts of the people with him?”
“I trow not, maiden. Hadst thou seen him as I saw him last, thou wouldst know that he did not. Forsaken and alone, Alfred hath gone none knows whither.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, the tears coming to her eyes, “sayest thou so? The king forsaken! How could they leave him, so noble, so good is he! Is not their allegiance his? Methinks that were I a man naught but death could make me unleal to the king. As it is, I am but a girl and can do naught but pray for him every day that he be kept safe, and that the people will rally around him again.”
“Do so, child! Thy pure prayers may accomplish that which the king hath not the power to do. If all Saxons were like thee the Dane would seek another land to ravage.”
“The maiden hath cause to pray for the king,” broke in the dame, who had remained silent as long as she could.
“What cause hath she?”
“Well—but what shall I call thee?” demanded Adiva.